The Seventh Avenger by ElrondsScribe

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Chapter 3

All rights belong to Marvel Studios and the Tolkien Estate.

Unforgivably early morning, May 3, 2012

Glorfindel always enjoyed his first week back at work after a two month "break," but at the end of each night, he was glad for the day to be over.

It was the first week back in the routine - warming up, stretching, and exercising in the morning, making the long, hectic drive to the Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts, and spending the entire day training and rehearsing and dancing. And after the equally long drive back to his apartment, he was perfectly happy to fall into bed and sleep through the night (which he rarely bothered to do). He had not slept much last night, and had been a little sluggish the subsequent day.

Which was why the buzzing of his phone at about half past three in the morning was was an even more unwelcome sound than usual. "Thought I put you on silent," he grumbled, sitting up blearily and grabbing at the offending device to see what was up.

It was an incoming call. There was no number or name on the screen - "Blocked number" was all that was displayed.

He was suddenly wide awake. He didn't get many calls from blocked numbers, and considering he'd recently had a surprise visit from the director of a quasi-intelligence agency . . .

He swiped his thumb over the "Answer" icon and put the phone to his ear. "Who is this?" he asked, not caring how rude it was.

"I trust I don't have to re-introduce myself," came the inimitable voice of Nick Fury.

"Thought as much," said Glorfindel dryly. "I assume there's only one reason you're calling me in the middle of the night. You need me to come in, don't you?"

"I'll put it this way," rumbled Fury. "There's a car waiting for you outside your complex, with one of our best agents inside. He's going to bring you to a facility where I'll be waiting in a chopper, and you and I are gonna take a ride."

Glorfindel arched his eyebrows. "On the off-chance that you are not who I believe you are or you try to take me anywhere funny, understand that I will kill you and whoever's with you with my bare hands and leave the bodies where they won't be found for the next decade." He hung up with another swipe, and stared resentfully at his phone.

Then trudged into the bathroom where he splashed his face and head with water, pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt, and wrestled his hair into two braids. He shoved his feet into his sneakers and pocketed his phone, wallet, and keys.

He slipped quietly out of his apartment, locked it behind him, and walked quietly down the hall, taking the stairs rather than the elevator. The security guards looked at him sideways when he checked himself out at the front desk, but let him out without too many questions.

He stepped outside and paused, looking up and down the curb for an unfamiliar car. Half a block away was a plain black sedan, with a man in a business suit leaning easily against it. As soon as he saw Glorfindel, he waved.

Glorfindel took a breath, quelled his misgivings, and walked up to the car. The man - presumably Fury's agent - was of average height with such a mild expression and unassuming manner that Glorfindel immediately felt uneasy.

"Please get in," said the agent, opening the passenger door of the sedan. Glorfindel swung himself inside, and was pleasantly surprised to find the seat situated well back from the dashboard to accommodate his longer legs.

The agent shut the door, passed around the front of the car, and climbed into the driver's seat. He smiled at Glorfindel and produced a laminated name tag from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "Agent Coulson, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division," he said.

Glorfindel dipped his head. "You must be Fury's agent," he said.

Agent Coulson's smile did not alter. "Buckle up," he said, and pushed a large button by the steering wheel. The engine turned over and all the car windows lit up with blue and white icons. A bright point of light shone briefly and rather painfully into Glorfindel's eyes, and a rather grating alarm began to blare. "Unidentified being present," said an automated voice.

"Add retinal scan under the name Glorfindel," said Agent Coulson, and to Glorfindel he added, "Sorry about that."

"Not a problem," Glorfindel lied, fastening his safety belt. Now any SHIELD fool can trace me anywhere, and I'm not that good at hacking. Damn you, Fury, this was not part of the deal. "Are you at liberty to tell me what's going on?"

Agent Coulson pointed at the glove compartment. "There's a folder in there with everything we have so far," he said, beginning to pull away from the curb. "Oh, there is one thing, though. Do you know anything about Norse mythology?"

Glorfindel, who was in the act of opening the glove compartment to retrieve the folder, looked around in some confusion. "Norse mythology? You mean the exaggerated stories the Scandinavians liked to tell about the strange race of warriors who fought off alien invaders about a thousand years ago?"

"You saying you were there?" asked Coulson with obvious interest.

"Well, not personally," said Glorfindel candidly. "I was in the Middle East at the time . . . but I did hear about it."

"Huh," said Coulson, seeming to store this little fact away for further inquiry later. "Well, is there anything you can tell us about a Loki?"

"Loki?" Glorfindel frowned. "I don't think I've heard the name from anybody I'd consider a credible source. The tales I've heard over the years say he's good at sorcery and rather mischievous, but fairly harmless as demigods go. Why?"

"He might have honored us with a visit last night," said Coulson placidly. It took a moment or two for the impact of his words to sink in.

"Loki is real?" he asked sharply.

"Real, and here," said Fury grimly. He was seated across from Glorfindel in a SHIELD helicopter, and together with Agent Coulson and an agent in the pilot's chair they were flying from a secured base just outside of New York City. Coulson had driven the sedan into a concealed garage and escorted Glorfindel into the base to meet Fury, who seemed distinctly ruffled and had refused to say anything about the situation until everybody was inside the chopper. "Introduced himself and everything; said he was 'burdened with glorious purpose' or some bullshit. Stole an important artifact and made off with it, in the process destroying one of our facilities, brainwashing a couple dozen of our best men, and killing a couple dozen others."

"Eru, it's too early for this," muttered Glorfindel, rubbing his forehead. But aloud he said, "What did Loki steal?"

"Can you tell me anything about the guy or not?" asked Fury rather irritably.

Glorfindel sighed. "No, I can't. Now you said we had about a ninety-minute ride - tell me more about what Loki stole from you. This," he lifted the folder. "doesn't mention anything about an artifact."

"That's classified," said Fury.

"Sure it is, which is why you're flying me who knows where in the wee hours of the morning instead of just arranging to meet me." The Elf leaned forward. "Do you understand that I just went back to work for the season?"

"Look, I'm sorry about the inconvenience," said Fury, sincerely enough that Glorfindel believed him. "But this is need-to-know for now, you got it?"

Glorfindel's jaw tightened. "Fury, there was a reason I left the intelligence field. I didn't join your precious Avengers Initiative to get back in the game."

"And I'm telling you now what I told you then," said Fury. "I'm not asking you to get back in the game. I'm asking if you're prepared to give us a hand while we track down Loki and the agents he swooped off with."

"Including the one who shoots a bow and arrow," Glorfindel couldn't help saying.

"His choice," said Fury with a shrug.

May 3, 2012

"You've been briefed on the situation already?" asked the redheaded, attractive, and smartly dressed Agent Romanoff as she began escorting Glorfindel across the deck. Director Fury had been whisked away on urgent matters at once, and she had taken the Elf in hand once they stepped off the helicopter onto the paved deck of some enormous vessel in the middle of the Atlantic. Glorfindel had dropped all pretenses and now walked fully clothed in his natural radiance.

He held up the folder Fury had given him on the helicopter. "I know what's in here and the little Fury would tell me," he said. "Is that Dr. Banner?" he pointed ahead.

A man with gently waving dark hair sprinkled with grey and a nervous manner seemed to be trying to stay out of everybody's way - actually to vanish into the air, in Glorfindel's opinion. He turned at the sound of his name, and caught sight of Romanoff and the tall Elf. His eyes behind the specs widened ever so slightly, and he came over to fall into step on Glorfindel's other side. "Mr., uh, Alexander?" he asked uncertainly.

"Glorfindel, please," said that individual with a smile. "My pleasure, Dr. Banner, and thanks for saving Harlem."

The Man blinked, obviously taken aback. "Uh, if that's what you wanna call it," he muttered uncomfortably, adjusting his glasses. "Natasha," he nodded at Romanoff.

"Doctor," Natasha Romanoff nodded back. "Just Glorfindel, or is there a title?"

"Oh, I haven't had a title for nearly five hundred years," said Glorfindel casually, relishing the way Banner seemed suddenly to pull up short as he realized the strangeness of having an immortal next to him.

But Romanoff was of course not so easily readable. "Course not, you've been in America, if I'm not mistaken," she said.

"You aren't," said Glorfindel. "Is this our base, by the way?"

"Until we can track down the Cube," said Romanoff. "You know, ever since Fury reported having found you and basically proved a bunch of really popular literature to be true, people have been geeking out like crazy. Be prepared for celebrity status and nerdgasms. There's our next candidate," she added, pointing.

Glorfindel stopped and took a second look at the tall broad-shouldered fair-haired man just stepping off the ramp of a small jet. "That's not who it looks like, is it?"

Agent Coulson, who seemed to be a person of some importance, was accompanying the fresh-faced celebrity from the past. "Agent Romanoff, Dr. Banner, Glorfindel," he introduced them proudly. "Captain Rogers."

(Glorfindel solidly resisted the urge to break out in song - Who's strong and brave, here to save the American way? - and from cracking age or ice-related jokes.)

"Ma'am," said the Captain politely, shaking hands with each of the three in turn. "Doctor, sir." His gaze lingered disapprovingly on the Elf's nearly waist-length hair.

"Captain," returned Glorfindel with a brilliant smile. "How nice to meet you again."

Captain Rogers blinked, obviously not remembering him and not wanting to say so.

"Good to see you again, Agent Coulson," said Glorfindel, smiling more normally as he shook the man's hand

Romanoff had shot Glorfindel a look that threatened amusement, but next moment was all business. "They need you on the bridge, they're starting the face trace," she told Coulson.

"See you there," said Rogers to Coulson, who promptly vanished.

"Quite the buzz around here, finding you in the ice," said Romanoff to Rogers as they drifted toward the deck railing. "I thought Coulson in particular was gonna swoon." She smirked. "Did he ask you to sign his Captain America trading cards yet?"

Glorfindel stifled a chuckle. Coulson had hidden it well, but there had been a slightly star-struck air about him while in the Captain's presence.

"Trading cards?" Rogers was smiling.

"They're vintage," said Romanoff helpfully. "He's very proud."

Rogers turned away from the subject, and his eye fell on Dr. Banner again, who was silently trailing Glorfindel like a nervous child trails his father.

"You know, I hear you can find the Cube, Dr. Banner," he said.

"That all you've heard about me?" asked Banner skeptically.

"All I've heard that matters," said Rogers firmly.

Banner nodded, seeming to appreciate this.

Glorfindel, looking at the two men, thought suddenly that in Steve Rogers Banner must be seeing the finished project, the result he had so catastrophically failed to duplicate (not that it was his own fault, as Glorfindel well knew from the stories leaked by an anonymous disgruntled underling of one General Thaddeus 'The Thunderbolt' Ross). He felt a pang of sympathy for the physicist.

"Vita rays," he heard himself say aloud.

"Scuse me?" Steve blinked up at him.

"Sorry, I was talking to myself," said Glorfindel.

But at that moment Agent Romanoff, who had just thrown a look over her shoulder, spoke again. "Gentlemen, you may want to step inside in a moment. It's going to get a little hard to breathe."

Almost as she said it, there came a series of clankings and whirrings as people around them began hurrying in various directions and barking orders.

"Oh, this is a submarine?" asked Glorfindel in surprise. The thing didn't seem the right shape and the deck was still littered with jets and copters. He went to the edge with Steve and Banner to look.

"Really?" said Banner wryly. "They want me in a submerged pressurized metal container?"

And then the water beyond the edges of the deck began frothing and foaming, and from beneath the surface rose two great fans with blades each the size of a small cottage. At the same time Glorfindel could feel the concrete quivering under his feet now begin, not to sink, but to ascend. Cataracts of water streamed from various openings as the vessel climbed into the air.

Steve's eyes widened. "An airship?!"

"A Helicarrier," corrected Agent Romanoff. "We'll be airborne for a while."

Banner smiled. "Well, this is much worse!"

For all you Agents of SHIELD fans: sorry, no Lola this chapter! She'd have drawn way too many eyes.

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